Chapter 3—The Direwolves of Winterfell The Royal Visit.
"With base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base?"
--William Shakespeare
9th Month. 296AC.
Winterfell.
A moon had passed since Lyarra had sent a letter to her uncle over in Kings Landing and she had been rather disappointed not to have gotten any response from him.
She knew she shouldn't be whiny. He was a busy man after all. A valued member of the Kingsguard, and from what she knew, a close friend to the king of Westeros. She couldn't expect him to be free all of the time… not like her anyways.
Ever since her punishment days were over and done with, she'd spent most of her time back at the sparring yard with Robb and Theon. She of course, made sure to stay out of Lady Stark's way as much as she could, and that occasionally included eating in the kitchens sometimes rather than in the great hall.
Lyarra was basically already used to it, and besides, most of the servants were nice. Sometimes, they even added a little something to her portions, though it was a secret between them.
At present, Lyarra sat in her room, seated on her bed with her feet beneath her as she knitted herself a new pair of gloves, her old one wearing out. And she wasn't about to waste her savings on something she had learnt from old nan. Needlework and knitting. While she hadn't been able to learn the first one with Sansa and Arya, she had gotten lessons from old nan and some kind old ladies in Winter Town over the years and she was proud of her level and attention to details. It also helped that Rodrik had once said using ones hand in day to day affairs as well as in forms of disciplines made someone an even better swordsman. Like learning calligraphy for instance. It took patience but at the end of the day there is a certain flair to one's writing which can also affect how a person used their hand.
Throwing a glance at the fireplace, she noticed the fire dying down slowly but she didn't really mind it.
It was quite warm in her room anyways.
"Lyarra!!"
Arya's excitable voice sounded outside the hallway and Lyarra grinned as she dropped her things, moving towards the door which was being rapidly knocked upon.
Lyarra forced a stern look on her face as she opened the door to see her excitable 10 name days old sister bouncing on her feet.
"What have I told you about knocking incessantly, Arya? What if your Lady Mother had seen?"
She warily looked out while Arya huffed, barging into her room and flopping on the older girl's bed.
"Lyarra, you will not believe what I just heard!"
"If it's about the guard who passed out in the yard and was thought to be a practice dummy, I already know that."
The white haired girl commented as she closed her door with a smirk, turning to her sister and folding her arms.
Arya waved her arms as she sat up.
"Did he get hacked??"
"Where did you get such an imagination from??"
Lyarra demanded as she walked over to her little sister and playfully hit her over the head in a chiding manner and the younger girl yelped, slapping her older sister's hand from her head and putting her tongue out at her.
"It doesn't matter! Lyarra! Dad got a raven yesterday night from Kings Landing!"
Lyarra immediately perked up at that.
Could it have been from her uncle?
But… Her Lord Father would have called on her instead though, so… what…
"Oh? Do you know what it said?"
She feigned slight interest as she grabbed her knitting materials to continue.
"The king and queen are coming to Winterfell!!"
Arya crowed out, jumping to her feet in excitement, stars shining in her eyes.
As for Lyarra, she placed her knitting pins back on the bed, jaw dropped.
"The king and queen… are coming, to Winterfell??"
She whispered to herself but Arya heard and nodded.
"Yes! Can you believe it?! And the Kingsguards will be coming too! I don't know if all of them will, but I am sure your uncle will come! The sword of the morning!"
The stars in Arya's eyes brightened and Lyarra's eyes widened as a grin grew across her face.
Perhaps.
Perhaps this was why he hadn't sent a letter. This was a surprise for her. A happy surprise!
Honestly, apart from the strange coincidence of him coming to Winterfell when she sent a letter, the king and queen would also be arriving!
The queen who had been her mother's best friend. The queen who her mother had been a lady in waiting for. Perhaps… perhaps Uncle Arthur might be able to convince her to tell her some stories on her mother. Even though Lyarra was a bastard, it shouldn't put off the queen too much since she was the daughter of her dear friend.
Then again, the queen was Dornish. Bastards weren't seen as evil reincarnate over there.
Oh the opportunities were limitless!
This was finally her chance—
"—Lyarra! Are you even listening!"
Said girl snapped out of her reverie as she looked at her sister currently glaring at her.
"Sorry. You were saying?"
Arya sniffed bit continued.
"I was saying, that when the sword of the morning arrives, could you ask him if I could squire for him? I'll be good, I swear!"
Lyarra chuckled amusedly at her sister as she continued her knitting.
"Not if I ask him first."
"Hey! That's not fair!"
She stomped her feet and the older girl smirked.
"Life's not fair, dearest sister. Remember that. By the way, shouldn't you be having a class with the Septa?"
Arya groaned as she walked towards the door.
"Ugh! She is so boring! I don't know why I have to go."
"Your future, Arya!"
"Pah! I'm going to be a warrior! Nothing else matters!"
She slams the door of her sister's room closed and Lyarra shook her head in amusement.
Her sister never ceased to amaze her.
The excitement of the royal family's arrival in a moon's time didn't die down throughout the day, nor the week, even as preparations were gradually taking place and Winterfell was a buzzing castle most of the time.
Sansa seemed on cloud nine of course. The thought of playing host to the prince of the seven kingdoms, thought to be the most handsome man in Westeros and Squire to the Sword of The Morning. She had begun selecting her outfits with her Lady Mother's help, especially one she had recently finished working on by herself. A great achievement in her opinion.
As for Bran, all he thought about was the knights coming with the king and queen. Perhaps he'd end up a squire earlier than expected? Maybe they'd even be in awe of his amazing climbing skills, especially since his family didn't seem to be amazed at his prowess.
Rickon absolutely did not care and only enjoyed racing through the passages of the castle, creating as much chaos as his little feet could.
Two weeks to the king and queen's arrival, Lyarra woke up from a strange dream she couldn't really remember only to hear her Lord Father had taken Robb and Theon out for the execution of a deserter brother.
The Night's Watch.
Perhaps if Lyarra had been born a boy she would have the option of going to the watch and ridding the Stark family of the supposed blight she was.
Or perhaps she would have been the Brandon Snow to Robb's Torrhen Stark, the king who knelt.
Anyways, she heard the deserter was a new black brother, just less than three moons who constantly complained about everything the North had to offer, and apparently he had been muttering how he couldn't take it anymore and ran off.
It was said that he'd planned on sailing to Essos and joining a Sellswords company.
No such luck on his part.
Lyarra headed towards the kitchens to break her fast as there was no way she would be staying in the hall where Lady Stark could spot her. Besides, she liked the warmth the kitchen had.
Always hot and bustling and lively. Perhaps if Lyarra had been born a less privileged bastard, then she would have found herself working somewhere similar.
Or dead in a ditch somewhere.
Too dark.
Bustling as usual, she made sure to stay out of the way of the workers even as she greeted everyone including the head cook Gage.
He was a great cook and the best at baking pies of beef-and-bacon and steak-and-kidney. He also, amusingly enough encouraged Sansa's love for lemon cakes as much as he could. Of course, that was whenever lemons were available.
He had a daughter named Turnip who was a scullion in the castle as well, a year or two younger than Lyarra was. She was a sweet little thing though prone to talking way out of context.
"Here's your breakfast."
Gage patted her head slightly before going back to work and she threw him a bright smile.
"Thanks Gage."
"Be sure to help out sometime closer to them royals arriving and that'll be great payment."
He quipped and Lyarra laughed as she took a bite of her breakfast, savoring it's deliciousness.
Behind her, the large roaring fireplace had a bunch of boiling pots and a rather old lady sat in a rickety chair, watching over them as Gage pounded some flour, preparing to bake some goodies.
As soon as she ate finish, another servant wasted no time grabbing her plate and adding it to the growing pile to be washed and Lyarra stood up, preparing to start off her day with a little prayer in the godswood.
As she prepared to walk past the fireplace, the old lady from earlier seemed to struggle with a boiling pot of hot, steaming water.
"Oh!"
She stumbled, and without so much as a thought, Lyarra grabbed the other side of the pot to steady it just as the water sloshed around dangerously and some splashed on Lyarra's skin.
The girl winced at first with a small shout, expecting to end up burned as she quickly dropped the pot on the ground and stared at her pale hands.
She shuddered out slightly with relief as her hands remained unburnt but then reality set in as she turned her hands to be sure, a frown on her face.
This wasn't right.
She should have burnt. Or at least, her hands should be red and in pain… and yet… here she was.
She looked down at the pot, the steam rising from it and a scullion using napkins to lift the pot while complaining about how hot and uncomfortable the steams were.
Yet… as bogus as it seemed to admit… it hadn't… burnt her.
Yes, it had been seeping hot, but the warmth had been… welcomed. Almost like being hugged by an old friend. Her hands had been encompassed with hotness that it had felt… good.
"Are you okay, Lady Snow?"
A young scullion about Arya's age asked her curiously and Lyarra shook her head, snapping out of her dazed thoughts and fisting her hands behind her back, suddenly feeling as if she has been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
Feigning a short smile, she gave the girl a stiff nod.
"Of course. And the name is Lyarra. I am no Lady."
The scullion nodded rapidly before running off and Lyarra quickly left the kitchens, trying to get her mind off of what had occurred.
Perhaps the weather was colder than usual and it had helped chill the water—no. Lyarra wasn't stupid, she wasn't going to act stupid either.
Perhaps just a trick of her mind… or the old gods helping her. If that water had ended up burning her, it would have been a pain to handle a sword or even do anything without needing burn pastes from Maester Luwin.
Heading towards the godswood, she idly listened to the chatters going around.
The castle was still excited about the impending arrival of the royal family.
Lyarra was too. But that was probably because her famed uncle would be arriving with them too.
Still though… the Targaryens were coming here. She actually got to see the king and queen in all their majestic glory. How were they? Would they be nice, or just snobs?
And also… Valyrians. She knew the king looked 100% Valyrian and his son looked like him as well. She wondered how different she'd look to them. After all, she might have some slight Valyrian qualities, like her silvery hair, and purple Dayne eyes, but her eyes were a very light purple, almost like the grey of the Starks and the Purple of the Daynes mixed together to get another color. She quite liked her features. Her slightly long stark face and pale skin.
Of her other trueborn siblings, Arya was perhaps the one who looked like their Lord Father. The same dark brown hair and Stark grey eyes. Heck, she looked like aunt Lyanna as a child, according to their Lord Father of course. If Arya grew up to look like their aunt, then she would definitely be a Northern beauty in the future.
Lyarra knew Jeyne Poole slyly called Arya, Horseface, it might hurt the girl, but Arya more or less seemed to have gotten over it… and taken her revenge.
The rest of her siblings either looked totally Tully in looks, or carried a mix of their parents.
Robb for instance had reddish brown hair and his blue eyes were almost a bluish gray, and like all Stark children, he had the long Stark face. Bran had auburn hair and bright blue eyes just like Sansa who looked like the younger copy of her mother and showed that she would be a traditional beauty as she aged. As for Rickon, his hair was more a light brown color with some red in there and his eyes were Tully blue.
Blood was a very curious thing.
Lyarra spent the next hour or so praying and relaxing in the godswood before heading to the practice yard to spar alone.
Soon enough, she got lost in her practice, embracing the power she felt whenever she held a sword and knew that she could protect herself as a female.
As a bastard.
The sound of excited chatters filled the yard and Lyarra stopped her practice, breathing rather heavily and wiping some sweat from her forehead as she looked around and saw some guards rushing elsewhere.
"What's going on?"
She turned to one of the guards.
"Lord Stark has arrived with his son and ward and apparently they brought back wolves. Rumors say they might be direwolf pups!"
Lyarra's eyes widened as she dropped her practice sword and ran towards where the commotion seemed to be coming from.
At the front of the castle, Lord Stark stood with his arm wrapped around a rather unhappy looking Lady Stark as her children gathered around furry little creatures that yipped squeakily and made Lyarra want to coo.
Of course Rickon stood behind his mother's skirt as one of the pups yipped at him from where it toddled on the ground.
Lyarra stifled a small smile as she watched it all unfold.
Direwolves in the North. What were the odds??
And found by the Stark family too! What were the old gods playing at??
"One for each child. Do you think it means something?"
A maid whispered to another nearby.
"Perhaps t'is a blessing! Direwolves, Peppa! The old gods speak!"
Lyarra watched her trueborn siblings, a small frown on her face as a weird feeling settled in her chest.
Jealousy.
As much as she tried to fight it… as much as she did love her siblings, she wouldn't deny that sometimes she wanted to enjoy the things they did.
So, because she was a bastard, the old gods had seemed her unfit to have a direwolf companion of her own.
Did they have something against bastards too??
She shook her head a bit. She shouldn't be thinking this way. She should be happy for her siblings, and she was!
Truly. It was just… when faced with something like this, it sometimes made it clear what position she really was in.
"Lyarra."
Her head snapped up and she found herself staring at Theon. But then her eyes moved down to stare at his arms at the fluffy white pup that laid there, it's bright red eyes watching her as it seemingly struggled to move to her.
She felt her heart warm up as she eagerly grabbed the little pup and she cooed at… him, as he licked her chin and she giggled.
Theon smirked though it was slightly softer than usual.
"Found this one a bit further away from the rest of the pack after their mother was killed. Strange one he is, the seeming runt of the pack. He doesn't make a sound either. Perhaps a companion would do him well."
Lyarra looked up with a shocked look. Her eyes roaming over to a smiling Robb who had a small overexcited pup in his arms and he winked at her.
Her eyes brushed over to her Lord Father, expecting some disappointment but he said nothing, turning to them all and giving them a stern look.
"They are yours now. But be prepared to give care to them as well as make sure they are well trained. A toe out of line and I will have to take drastic measures. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Father."
The Stark children said.
"Yes, Lord Stark."
Lyarra added, with an appreciative bow, though her attention was on the little snow white pup.
She then remembered Theon was still there and looked up with a wide grin on her face.
"Thank you, Theon."
He shrugged, his smirk widening.
"Eh. Thank Robb. I was more or less for taking them out of their misery."
Nearby, Sansa who had a pup in her arm gasped in horror while Arya glared at the ironborn heir who laughed out loud.
Robb sighed, before following his father into the castle, Theon behind them.
Arya immediately rushed over to Lyarra with a beam.
"You have a direwolf too! I think I'll name mine Nymeria! Like the Dornish story you told me about. You think the sword of the morning would be impressed??"
She raised her pup up and said pup only yipped once before looking away.
Further away, Catelyn watched, slightly detached, at the sight of her husband's bastard holding the living sigil of the Stark family. But what could she do?
She had much more to think of, like the Royal visit.
Grabbing Rickon's hand who had seemingly stopped hiding from the pup once he realized it couldn't hurt him, she majestically walked into the castle, the pup following behind but Bran quickly grabbed it before it could injure itself, a rather peculiar look on his face as he followed behind his mother and brother.
Over the next few days, Lyarra made sure to care for her newly named companion, Ghost. He really was quiet, and she suspected he was mute or something. He was a strange one too… fur whiter than even her silvery hair and eyes as red as the saps and leaves of the weirwood tree.
But he was calmer than his other siblings, that much could be seen.
Robb had named his Grey Wind, and it had smoky grey fur with yellow eyes. Arya had eventual named hers Nymeria in honor of the warrior princess herself. The direwolf was pure grey with golden eyes. As for Bran, well he was still stuck on the name and so for now no one knew what to address it as. It's fur was silvery grey with yellow eyes.
Sansa's direwolf had been named Lady. Apparently she was the best behaved of the litter but Lyarra thought that went to Ghost. The direwolf had grey fur with yellow eyes. And then finally, there was Rickon's. No one bothered him about naming at the moment as the boy had changed names over 8 times already and the rest of Winterfell was waiting for him to finally settle on one, just like his brother Bran hadn't been able to do yet. His direwolf's fur was the exact opposite of Ghost's, with it being pure black with green eyes.
Lyarra found it was nice having a companion, even though said companion didn't really understand what she usually said… but he seemed to get her movements.
According to Maester Luwin, Direwolves achieved adulthood when they were a year old and by then, they were the size of a large horse, huge and deadly killing tools.
Lyarra had looked down at the albino pup in her room after that conversation, seeing him chew on her boot, the pup must have felt her stare as he turned to her with a tilted head, dropping the none and tongue rolling out on one side. Rather comical but absolutely cute! Imagining this little fella as large as a horse and a perfect killer was so hard to imagine!
She found that he loved to crawl into her bed while she slept and cuddle up with her. She didn't mind too much as his fur was super soft, but she hoped for both their sakes that he grew out of that before he became the size of a horse.
Things seemed to be going as good as could be. Lyarra made sure to do her chores at the right time as well as helping out wherever she could and making small coins through odd jobs around winter town.
She kept up with her sparring sessions as well and as the days crept closer, she eagerly awaited the new chapter of Winterfell.
10th Month. 296AC.
Winterfell.
Lyarra stood a little further away from the Starks, standing behind so as not to stand out too much.
She had changed into a simple light grey fur gown and braided her hair down her waist, standing tall and straight as the royal retinue strolled in on horses, the Targaryen banner flying high everywhere and closely behind was a red and black painted coach, not too big but still comfortable and sturdy enough.
Behind some of the guards at the front, Lyarra breathed out slightly, ignoring multiple stifled gasps as she saw two very distinguished men that looked so alike, except perhaps one was younger.
They possessed silvery blonde hair, purple colored eyes and pale spotless skin from what she could see. And they looked otherworldly beautiful. There was no other way to explain it.
If gods were real and perhaps had human forms, perhaps they would look like this?
Maybe there was some truth after all to the old tales of gods sleeping with humans and birthing Valyrians. Even Lyarra who had some features similar to theirs and always seemed to stand out in Winterfell, found that she paled in comparison to them.
The older man was decked proper, black and red, with a gold and red ruby crown on his head, a curious but slightly melancholic look to this eyes that seemed to draw people in. He could pass for a man in his late twenties or even early thirties and yet, Lyarra knew this man was 39 name days old.
The boy who rode next to the king was absolutely even more beautiful. His hair was longer than his father's who kept his just past the nape of his neck. His fell to his shoulder blades in slight waves, packed cleanly with ruby jewelry and his purple eyes observing the mighty castle that was Winterfell. He was dressed in dark red silky tunic with black and gold lacework and embroidery on it, plain black trousers and boot with a nice looking belt where his sword sat. His back cloak bellowed slightly in the cold wind. Heavy looking enough to withstand the cold air of the North.
Lyarra's eyes stayed on his person for a moment, and she couldn't lie that she didn't see the appeal of such a person.
But her eyes roamed once more as she saw the familiar signature all-white cloaks, and gold armor with extensive white enameling armor of the famed Kingsguard and she almost danced on her feet, watching the three members follow behind their king and prince, one staying directly next to the still moving coach.
Before she could try to guess which one her uncle was, her Lord Father took to his knees, and as one, everybody followed as well.
It was slightly quiet though the sound of feet landing on the ground could be heard.
"Please, rise Lord Stark. Long has it been a dream of mine to grace the hall of your ancestors."
The king's soft but firm voice resonated across and as Lyarra's Lord Father got to his feet once more and clasped the king's hand with another bow, everyone else rose once more.
"It is an honor to have you here. Winterfell is yours, your grace."
The king gave a small smile as the coach's door was opened and a beautiful woman in red and gold Dornish inspired saree gown, with beautiful golden embroidery littering all over. A Black and gold cloak protecting her from the cold air and a serene smile on her attractive golden skinned face.
She walked towards her husband as Lord Stark bowed and Lady Catelyn curtseyed.
As much as Lyarra tried to see the faces of the kingsguard members, it was hard with their golden helmets over their heads.
"Your grace, this is my wife and our children."
The king and queen patiently greeted the family with polite smiles while the king turned to his son who stepped forward.
"And this is my heir, Aegon Targaryen."
Said prince bowed with a smile.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintances, Lord Stark, Lady Stark."
Lyarra watched as Sansa seemed to shake where she stood next to Robb while Robb's eyes narrowed slightly at the prince. A small smile appeared on Lyarra's lips.
"We should head in now, we've had quite the moons journey. I believe my wife would prefer the warmth of the castle at this moment."
"Of course. Please, this way."
Lady Stark spoke up, taking over as Last of the castle, a welcoming smile on her face as she took her husband's arm, the king and queen doing the same and heading into the castle.
Lyarra sighed quietly as she looked away with a small scowl, not noticing the rather curious look on the crown prince's face at the sight of the slightly Valyrian looking girl.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Lyarra headed straight into her room, changing back into breeches and heading off to the sparring yard.
She had hoped to catch sight of her uncle but it was to be expected that he'd observe decorum in the presence of his king and queen.
Why she had expected any different in the first place.
She stopped by the kennels shortly, looking at where the litter of direwolf pups were being kept.
They had been transferred here so the kennel master could watch them while everyone welcomed the royal family. It would have looked bad if a bunch of them had ended up anywhere near the king or queen and unknowingly startling them. People have died for less.
After checking to see they were okay, Lyarra walked towards the yard. She'd see her uncle later, anyways.
The yard though, was almost filled to the brim, with guards and soldiers of both the Targaryen and Stark families. Practicing and chattering amongst each other, slight wariness amongst the two parties but nothing concerning.
She couldn't practice here.
It was one thing to practice amongst her Lord Father's people. He had given her leave to do so, but these were the king's people. And she was a bastard. A bastard who didn't want too much attention on her at the moment.
With a stifled sigh, she grabbed a blunt sword and changed destinations.
The godswood.
It was calm and quiet. Also empty. Just like she preferred.
There would be a feast tonight, and Lyarra wasn't sure she'd be allowed to attend. And she wasn't about to embarrass herself by showing up either.
Ahh… what a miss though!
She rarely ever got dressed up for anything. Most of the time she wore breeches and some other times when gowns and skirts were required, she dressed as minimally as possible. This would have been a good night to show some of her creations.
But it was for naught anyways.
She slashed through the air with a small grunt, twisting and turning and her long braid flying in the air behind her.
Suddenly, the feeling of someone watching her made her pause for a millisecond, before she twists sharply, sword raised and slashing it… close to the neck of a slightly startled crowned prince.
It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of the cold wind and leaves rustling, before Lyarra let out a startled shout, throwing the sword to the ground like it was a cursed item as she rushed closer to him, startling him even further.
It wasn't like she actually cared about that though. She'd almost injured the crown prince!!
"Oh gods! I did not hit you did I??"
She cried out as she leaned closer to his neck as if searching for any sign of a developing bruise, already raising a hand to inspect when his hand caught hers, holding it firmly but softly as an amused grin slowly appeared across his face.
"I am fine, my lady. No harm done."
Lyarra sighed in relief, nodding absentmindedly before pausing as she realized their close proximity to each other.
If anyone saw them like this… they'd call her a whore trying to seduce the prince!
Her mortified look grew as she slowly yanked her hand out of his grasp, distancing herself away from him and bowing low, her cheeks going red from embarrassment.
"Forgive me my prince. I meant no harm."
She stuttered out as grimly as she could and the prince stared at her, head tilting slightly.
"Do women in the North usually bow?"
Lyarra looked back up at him, startled as she forced her answer out.
"W-well, I am not dressed sufficiently enough to curtsey your grace. In appropriate feminine outfit I assure you I'd do as proper."
A soft chuckle resonated around the godswood.
"Dearest niece. Might I have your company now?"
A gasp escaped Lyarra's lips as she turned slightly to see her uncle, still in his Kingsguard outfit as usual, but his helmet off.
His sword sat at his hips and white cloak bellowing in the winds, his light blonde hair moving slightly while a grin appeared on his handsome face.
"Uncle!"
She immediately ran over to him, once again forgetting decorum as she flew into Arthur's arms who let out a loud booming laugh as he twirled her around.
Perhaps, she could be forgiven for such behavior being shown in the crown prince's presence, owing to her bastardry, but to other nobles, it certainly wouldn't have been a welcomed sight.
"My! How you've grown."
Lyarra laughed as he set her down and patted her slightly unruly braid.
"You haven't seen me in close to 10 years, uncle. I have indeed grown since then."
Arthur's smile softened as he stepped back to look at her clearly.
"You look so much like your mother in face, Lyarra. She'd be proud of the lady you're becoming."
"If you mean a warrior woman, then I'm glad."
Arthur chuckles.
"Indeed! You've been practicing I see."
Lyarra puffed up slightly in pride.
"I am quite the swordswoman, uncle Arthur. But a true sword has not been put in my hands yet."
She then smiled rather impishly at him.
"Perhaps… a certain uncle who loves me wouldn't mind surprising me with one soon?"
She fluttered her lashes at him as she clasped her hands together and Arthur smirked, folding his arms.
"Perhaps. But you'd have to win in a fight to prove your so-called prowess to me, oh great swordswoman."
A frown appeared on Lyarra's face immediately.
"How you expect me to beat you, the famed sword of the morning, is alarming uncle. Have you let yourself go or something?"
Arthur chuckled.
"Oh, you won't be facing me, niece."
He then looked behind Lyarra and a rather devious smirk grew across his face.
"Perhaps my squire would have to do."
"Your sq—"
Lyarra paused, suddenly remembering the prince was somewhere around the vicinity and she spun to face him.
He chuckled, having heard everything they'd been saying, though he was staring at the weirwood tree with a curious look.
Lyarra bowed, internally causing her misfortunes.
This was just the first day and she'd highly disrespected the crown prince two times! What if he were to demand her hand in payment for her insults?? She needed them to hold a sword and do other things too!
"I couldn't possibly fight the prince."
She threw a side glare at Arthur who shrugged unconcerned.
The prince finally turned to them both, crouching to grab her blunt sword and a pair she'd taken, walking over.
"There's no harm. In fact, I will welcome it."
He held a sword to her and she still hesitated.
"I do have female cousins. From Dorne. Not to also forget my sister. And I have sparred with them quite a lot, my lady."
"I am no Lady. My name is Lyarra. My prince."
She added belatedly.
She was no lady, she wouldn't pretend to be one. She couldn't.
"Very well then. If we are to break the yolk of being strangers and venture into sparring partners, then you may call me Aegon."
Not noticing the weird look Arthur threw at the prince, Lyarra shook her head rapidly.
"I could never do that, my prince. Honor demands that I respect my betters, no matter where we meet."
The prince chuckles, shaking his head.
"I had heard of the Starks and their so called honor. To see it now is quite amusing."
Lyarra grimaces, bowing her head a bit.
"I am no Stark either."
The prince pauses, looking down at her, a strange look on his face before he nods.
"Very well. Let's make this into a challenge then. If I win, you call me by my name. If you do, I shall call you whatever you wish and you may call me whatever you want to. Also, Ser Arthur shall get you a fine sword."
Lyarra's eyes widened slightly even as Arthur grunted.
"I don't remember agreeing to this."
The silver haired prince waves the knight away.
"You were ready to pit us against each other the first time, Ser."
He waited patiently for a deeply uncomfortable Lyarra to make her decisions. She turned to her uncle who shrugs.
"He is the prince. You follow as he commands."
Lyarra stifled a sigh, making a small prayer to the old gods and begging that she not be smited for what she was about to do.
The prince smiled approvingly and took a stance slightly unfamiliar to her, even as she took her own stance, face cold and blank, reminiscent of the Starks.
"On my count. You begin."
Arthur spoke firmly from where he stood a bit further away.
Lyarra breathed in deeply, her fingers grasped tightly around the hilt of her sword even as the prince stared back at her just as focused and she tried to ignore the nervousness she felt.
"Fight!"
Without wasting any second, both met and clashed halfway, searching for weaknesses in their movements.
Lyarra had always been fast. An advantage she usually had over her brother Robb. He had a stocky build to him so it had always been her speed that got her the occasional win over him.
But the prince was muscularly lithe from what she could see. Similar to his father as well, and his height didn't seem to hold him back as he seemed to be just as fast and even more agile than Lyarra could boast.
She soon found herself falling on her ass with a slight yelp and quite a bit of surprise.
She heard Arthur clapping.
"Not bad Lyarra. Not bad at all. You do have the skill."
But Lyarra was staring at the prince who nodded at what Arthur was saying.
She'd be an idiot if she hadn't once imagined that perhaps the prince would be some spoilt, stuck up beady boy who was probably bad at sword fighting, but that was quite a long time ago.
Her respect for him seemed to have increased, not just because of his obvious fighting prowess, but also because of the lack of hesitation he'd felt over fighting a girl, like most usually had. Even Robb had been embarrassed the first few times Rodrik put them against each other.
In fact, the prince had even encouraged her to fight him. It also helped, that he was easy on the eyes.
He smiled down at her, holding a hand towards her.
"Well done… Lady Lyarra. Or is it just Lyarra after all?"
He gave her a nod that seemed just so regal in her opinion, as her mouth opened slightly at his suaveness before slowly grasping at his hands as he drew her up.
She nods respectfully, a small bow after. No bad blood. He had won fair and square.
"Indeed, my pr—Aegon."
It sounded very strange coming directly from her mouth. Not quite right with her Northern accent but still pleasing to say.
And it didn't matter though, for as his smile widened, seemingly blinding the world with it's beauty, Lyarra silently cursed her heart to be still.
Lyarra sat in her room early that evening as she contemplated her day.
She'd finally reunited with her uncle, she met and almost injured the crown prince and even ended up sparring with him.
It all seemed so impossible to comprehend, but it had happened.
Apart from that, she'd been informed by a maid servant that Lady Catelyn expected her to be at the feast tonight.
As if that wasn't absolutely mind boggling.
But then again, Lyarra could see some reasons why she was allowed.
Her uncle was a member of the kingsguard, and he was a close friend of the king. And the queen… she had been Lyarra's mother's closest friend and one of the queen's ladies in waiting.
And so Lyarra got to play dress up for the first time in a while.
She chose her best gown, which was a mixture of Dornish and Northern materials. The Dornish silk she'd gotten from her aunt, Allyria Dayne for her birthday about a year ago which Lyarra had worked on to make a rather nice but modest looking gown.
It was light purple with white spiral works on it, representing the color of house Dayne which she was glad to have. If she couldn't represent house Stark as much as she wanted, then she'd take the house of her mother. The house that didn't seemingly have any issues with her birth.
She'd put silvery dyed furs on the edges though. The high collars, ends of the hands and the ends of the gown, subtly making the otherwise Dornish material have some northern touches.
She then fixed up her hair as much as she could. She wasn't good at that, never learnt. But she knew how to braid and so she let it flow down her back before letting two small braids down the sides of her face, down and past her chest.
Amusingly enough, Lyarra would definitely pass for an highborn lady and it made her chortle uncontrollably as she walked out of her room, heading towards the great hall.
As she passed people by, she received rather appreciative looks here and there and though she was pleased, she was also embarrassed at some of the compliments given.
She ran into Theon as she almost got to the hall.
He was dressed up and when he saw her, an appreciative smirk appeared on his face as he walked up to her.
"Well, well… someone definitely cleaned up well. Are you looking to impress anyone?"
Lyarra rolled her eyes.
"You're a little early to a feast. Was your favorite whore busy with another man?"
Theon sighed ruefully.
"Indeed. The Targaryen retinue are ruining things. I had to leave and get ready. At least I'm here with the next best thing."
Lyarra glared at the ironborn, slapping him on the hand rather harshly.
"Ow!"
"Are you calling me a whore??"
Theon opened his mouth, ready to snark at her when he saw the dangerous look she gave him and he immediately rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't calling you a whore. As if you look like it. Come, let me accompany you to the hall, I might be able to grovel for your forgiveness on the way."
He gestured his arm and Lyarra sniffed with a glare, ignoring his smirk when she conceded, but then she pinched his arm and twisted and he let out a sharp cry.
"Remember I can still beat you up, Greyjoy. I'm the better fighter."
"Others take you."
He whispered moodily and Lyarra huffed as they continued their journey.
The great hall was filled up even more than ever, and it took a while for Lyarra to find a place to seat.
Houses from all over the North had gathered in Winterfell for the royal family's visit and also the retinue brought with them were also in the hall. It was loud and chatters filled the air.
Performers played and sang while maids bustled all around, serving drinks out before the feast would begin.
Theon was obligated to sit closer to the front, seeing as he was a ward of Lord Stark's.
Looking around, the silver haired girl instinctively caught the eyes of wondering men and women who watched her either appraisingly or with envy, but Lyarra kept moving around until she found a space to sit at a table situated almost at the middle of the hall, with people her age or a little younger.
Lyarra wasn't familiar with them, so they were probably children of the lesser lords and ladies.
They greeted her with curious looks when she sat down and a girl spoke up.
She had brown hair and brown eyes and was a bit plain looking though her smile made her very approachable.
"You are Lord's Stark's natural born daughter! Pleasure to meet you, I'm Alice Mollen of Wenderly Keep."
"Diana Woolfield, of Foldton. And can I just say, your brother is so handsome!"
The black haired and brown eyed girl opposite Lyarra sighed wistfully, a dreamy look on her face and the silver haired girl stifled a smile as Alice scoffed at her.
"Yes, yes. He is handsome. But have you SEEN the prince?? He's absolutely special!"
Diana looked like she was struggling between the two boys when a boy closer to them spoke up, a small sneer on his face.
"And how do you know the prince isn't some green boy? Did you not see him? He looks like he's never played with a sword all his life!"
Alice and Diana gasped, glaring at the boy.
"You better watch what you say about the prince. People get killed over little!"
The boy seemed to pale for a second before Lyarra cut in.
"You are wrong anyways. The prince does know how to fight. He is good in fact."
The three turned back to her and Lyarra noticed the boy seemed to have a lot of similarities to Alice.
"Oh? And just how would you know that?"
He narrowed his beady looking eyes at Lyarra who struggled not to sneer disdainfully at him.
"One, he is the crown prince. He has to know how to fight as he's the future of Westeros. And two, he is my uncle's squire… or perhaps you didn't realize that I am half Dayne, and the sword of the morning is my uncle."
Their eyes immediately brightened up.
"Oh yes! I had totally forgotten!"
Diana gushed while the boy stared at Lyarra in a new light.
"Have you sparred with your uncle before?"
Lyarra snorted. Of course, that would be most people's first question. The sword of the morning was a famed man after all.
She shook her head.
"Not at all. But he did promise me."
His eyes glittered in awe and Alice snorted.
"Ignore him. He wants to be a knight. Crazy, I know, seeing as we are Northerners and we have no such thing. My father believes one day he'll leave us in the night and run off to the south."
"Shut up Alice."
He scowled at the girl, ears red and Alice smirked.
"You shut it, Reese."
Diana and Lyarra exchanged amused looks before they noticed the hall quieting up.
"Lords and Ladies! A wonderful evening and feast to you all. As we begin this banquet, we welcome Lord and Lady Stark who are playing host to the King and Queen of the seven kingdoms!"
Everyone cheered, standing to their feet respectfully as the four gracefully walk into the hall, moving towards their seats at the top.
"We also welcome the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, Prince Aegon Targaryen, prince of Summerhall, accompanying on his arm, the Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell. Behind them is The heir to Winterfell, Lord Robb Stark taking the rear of the group."
Behind the adults, the crown prince walked in, looking even more regal and beautiful than earlier. His hair packed similarly to how it was earlier and dressed in red and black ensemble. A gold circlet over his head, and accompanying him was Lyarra's little sister, Sansa.
Sansa had always been a traditional beauty. Someone who's beauty would blossom even more as she aged. She'd heard more than once through whispers how some thought her beauty would be better beheld in the south.
She was dressed in a grey dress with silver embroidery on it and her hair was done very immaculately above her head.
She had a very huge smile on her face that Lyarra thought it was going to burst. She stifled a laugh as she saw how her sister's shoulder rose as people whispered in appreciation as they passed.
They would make quite the attractive couple. The auburn haired girl looked so happy she might faint from happiness, although her cheeks were very red from being in such close proximity to the prince.
Right behind them, Robb walked in, his face stuck in the eternal blank grimness so reminiscent of the Starks as he wore the colors of their house and carried himself like the heir of Winterfell. Or at least tried to.
It was so pretentious that when she caught his eye, she crossed her eyes humorously at him and his lips quirked for a second before straightening up again.
Sadly for Arya who had wanted to attend, she was too young to be allowed in the hall and had apparently thrown a tantrum so loud Lady Catelyn had feared the royal family heard her wild wolf of a daughter.
She was allowed to keep Nymeria in her room as a compromise. Bran as well with his still unnamed pup.
They all soon settled back down and the feast began and food was soon served all around.
The chatters grew and the ensemble began to play in the hall.
Lyarra found that she quite enjoyed the seeming rowdiness of the hall. Also, she found that she quite got along with Alice Mollen and Diana Woolfield, even though Alice's brother seemingly had a loose tongue that could lead to his death sometime in the future.
She still found them nice company though.
Her eyes did occasionally stray to the front of the hall where the King, Queen, Lord and Lady Stark sat.
Some major houses of the North were also in attendance and sat closer to the front and then minor/vassal houses were scattered around the hall. The Prince and Robb sat together at their own table though, with Sansa and some of the heirs of the major Northern houses in attendance.
Said prince had a polite mask on as he seemingly answered the questions thrown at him, and even Robb seemed to be listening to something the Prince was saying. Surprise, Surprise.
Lyarra looked around the hall again and saw the kingsguard members looking as regal as usual. Their helmets were off and as she caught eyes with her uncle, he threw her a playful wink before focusing back on his duties.
As expected, the Lord Commander had not come as his duty was in Kingslanding. Apart from her uncle, she knew one of the other Kingsguards was Jaime Lannister. Another great swordsman from the Westerlands, though from what Lyarra also knew, his family name was not as strong as it used to be.
After his father very well destroyed the legacy he had built, the new Lord, Tyrion Lannister, a known dwarf, had gone on to marry a peasant woman he'd fallen in love with and she'd given him two children.
Personally, Lyarra saw nothing wrong in that. He'd had the chance to fall in love and marry who he desired. But then again, she wasn't good with politics and such nonsense.
Lyarra's eyes went over the King and Queen. A beautiful couple. Almost exotic looking in their features and different from what she usually saw here in the North.
The King was in a conversation with Lord Stark who seemed to be nodding seriously, a contemplative look on his face. As for the Queen, she had on a polite look on her face that reminded Lyarra of the prince. She was conversing with Lady Stark who had an almost pinched look on her face as she held her goblet of drink.
The auburn haired woman's eyes seemed to roam towards Lyarra's direction and the girl quickly shifted her gaze elsewhere, not ready to bear the brunt of a glare that could just as well ruin her night.
Scattered claps resonated around the hall as a song finished and the ensemble prepared to play another.
Lyarra's eyes searched out a particular table again and she soon found herself gazing at the prince.
She knew she wasn't the only one very curious about him or his parents. She idly wondered why his sister had not come. Perhaps she didn't want to be in the 'frozen wasteland' that the Southerners called the North.
Just then, the prince looked away from Robb and their eyes met, startling Lyarra a bit. But the prince didn't seem shaken at all as he gave her a small nod with a side smile and Lyarra looked down at her plate, feeling her cheek redden from embarrassment. For a second, she thought of nothing, and then a frown grew on her face.
Embarrassment was one thing, but she needed to be careful with what she did in the hall, lest rumors began to fly around.
People could be delusional and if they saw her in a compromising stare down with the prince, she knew the scandal that could bring. A bastard trying to gain way with the beloved prince of the realm.
A travesty that would be!
She dropped her utensil, her mood becoming grim again and she cleared her throat.
"Excuse me. I need some air."
She nods at her new acquaintances before getting up slowly and sneakily leaving the hall, ignoring the eyes she felt on her person.
The sparring yard was empty. But the music and cheers from the hall could still be heard though not as loudly. Northerners were a loud bunch.
She grabbed a blunt sword and went over to a practice bunny, taking a whack to it and grunting slightly.
She had no idea why, but whenever she felt too frustrated or angry, one of the things she liked to do was whack something as viciously as possible. A good way to control her emotions, she thought.
But she hadn't even whacked for up to a minute when she felt someone behind her and she swung her sword threateningly at the person… only to find an amused Prince staring back at her, a hand raised as if stopping someone and she saw the third unknown kingsguard member's hand sitting stiffly on his sword.
"We really have to stop meeting like this."
Lyarra let out a mournful groan as she shakily threw the sword on the ground, moving once more to check if she had nicked him this time, but then immediately stumbled back, curtseying.
"My apologies, my prince."
A frown appeared on his beautiful face.
"Have you perhaps forgotten our deal so quickly?"
Lyarra immediately winced, looking away for a moment before sighing.
"Apologies… Aegon."
She whispered his name quietly, and he grinned once more.
"Apology accepted. Of course, I should be the one doing the apologizing. After all, you did leave the hall immediately after we saw each other. And with a frown, might I add."
Lyarra grimaces a bit, trying not to wring her fingers, a sign of nervousness or being uncomfortable.
"You should go back. Before they notice you gone. And if I'm found with you, and alone, I will be accused of trying to seduce you with my secret bastard magic or something just as equally ridiculous."
She finished wryly and he frowned slightly.
"People are allowed to leave anytime. Some already have. Also, bastardry is not a disease."
Lyarra snorts underneath her breath before quietly adding.
"Tell that to Lady Stark."
She might not really have anything against the Lady of Winterfell, after all, she never even physically touched her, but it didn't mean the looks she gave her all her life never affected her in any way.
The prince said nothing.
Just then, the music from the hall increased as a popular song was sung and half the hall joined in to sing the Northern song.
A contemplative look appeared on his face before it gave way to a playful one.
"Will you do me the honor of a dance?"
He held out his hand and Lyarra's eyes widened in horror as she immediately shook her head.
"Of course not! It wouldn't be proper!"
He smiles down at her and shrugged.
"You are the daughter of my mother's best friend, it wouldn't be too weird if I asked you to dance. Also, no one is here. Except perhaps him."
He pointed behind him where the kingsguard stood watch and Lyarra looked at him.
He was young. About Lyarra's age or so, with black hair, blue eyes and a lithe build. He was also rather handsome, a side grin sitting on his face. He also looked rather familiar now that she was closer to him.
"His name is Gendry Baratheon. Firstborn son of Stannis Baratheon and willing member of the kingsguard."
An amused smile appeared on Gendry's face.
"I certainly wasn't cut out to be heir to my Lord Father. I don't have the brains like my younger brother. This was a better way to remove myself from the line of succession. Without dying, of course."
Aegon snorted at the boy.
"Of course."
He then turned back to Lyarra who still had an unsure look on her face.
"He is my good friend. If you are so worried about getting caught, he will let us know if we're being spied upon."
Lyarra sighed, knowing this prince was stubborn. But she could be stubborn too.
She looked up at him strongly.
"I'm not very good at dancing."
Which was true.
He shrugged, holding out his hand for her and after a moment of hesitation, she placed her hand in his. He immediately brought her close to himself, and she got wary, looking around carefully.
"Step on my boots."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What?"
"Just do it."
She breathes out through her nose but then carefully did as he told, bringing her into the prince's personal space.
She felt uncomfortable and embarrassed but she was no blushing maiden as she stared at him head on.
She did envy his long lashes and flawless skin though.
Seriously, he was amazing up close!
Before she could think of something else, he grips her hand and waist firmly and starts jumping around rather comically, eliciting a shout of laughter from her.
His beam widened until he too joined in her excitement and laughter and he spoke up.
"It seemed fitting to jump to this song! Don't you think??"
Lyarra laughed, shaking her head and unsurprisingly feeling better than before, snickering as the prince sang along to the famous Northern song while making funny faces to go along with the scenes the song spoke on.
When the song was over, she extricated herself from him, swaying a bit once her feet touched the ground and chuckling.
"You are a bit weird."
Aegon smiled impishly.
"My sister says the same. But wait till you meet my uncle, Viserys. I have nothing on him."
She snorted disbelievingly and it was quiet for a moment. Then Aegon opened his mouth to ask her a question, but the sound of footsteps and loud laughter coming towards their way made her turn to see Ser Gendry giving them a look.
She panicked for a second before curtseying.
"I bid you a goodnight, my prince."
And just like that, she snuck off.
"Wait—"
But she was gone, faster than the wind, in Aegon's opinion.
He sighed, even as people passed by and Gendry chuckled, walking to stand by his close friend.
"I see you caught yourself a bird."
Aegon frowns, turning to his friend.
"I caught nothing, Gendry."
Gendry huffs.
"Not from what I just saw. Better bed her and get it out of your system soon. You're the prince, and no one would accept a bastard queen."
Aegon knew his friend meant no Ill will with his words, that was just how he spoke. But he didn't bother correcting said 16 name days old, new member of the kingsguard. He was only curious about the Valyrian looking young woman and her being the daughter of a woman his mother spoke most fondly of.
"My prince."
"My prince."
He nodded politely as people passing began to take notice of his presence and bowed to him. He turned to Gendry.
"I should head back in before father or mother begin to wonder where I am."
--For the Direwolves, i decided to change how big they are. They are described as being as big as a small horse or pony, but in my fic, they are as big as a grown large horse and even more deadlier... I mean, they're direwolves! I just think they're capable killing machines and we're probably one of the reasons the Starks of old used to be feared.
--Valyrians are always described as beautiful and eye-catching so I'm basing them off of the elves of lotr. Not fully of course, just there's a certain glow to them that makes them stand out from others. I believe they have something in their blood, after all l, the incest in the Targaryens veins should have turned some of their descendants into something else.
--I based SOME of the Dornish attires and some little traditions here and there on Indians and their wonderful and beautiful traditions. There will be differences here and there. Dornish do like to dress lightly too, so not all will dress like the queen. But they do like silks and golds and sarees and the like.
--Gendry in canon is the bastard son of Robert Baratheon. Gendry here is the trueborn son of Stannis Baratheon.
--Elia and Lyarra meet in the next chapter and talk about Ashara Dayne.